


The Art of the Soul

by Drops_Of_rAIne



Series: The Art of the Soul [2]
Category: IDENTITY V, 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Kinda¿, Love, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Multi, Obsession, Past, Pining, Slow Burn, later on tho, no beta we die like men, wow this is turning dark—
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drops_Of_rAIne/pseuds/Drops_Of_rAIne
Summary: Aesop Carl lived a quiet life. Seen as a professional man lacking in what made life beautiful. He tried once, and that failed him; furthering his friendships away.Another Chance has come to light, the question is, is he willing to let go of the past?(Alternately aka Sarcastic VerAesop Carl, soft uwu boi, goes on an adventure because of an invitation to a 2 week celebration because of two old friends he hasn’t met for at least a year because of the incident and well he stumbles into a beautiful place, finds something that will lead him to Joseph and magical shit 💁♀️)





	The Art of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be E x t r e m e slow burn. I wonder who the hell will have the patience for this.

The Art of the soul

Every person’s journey in life must come to an end. When that happens, they have a guide to ferry them to the afterlife. Aesop Carl is one of those guides who do so. He is a professional man, yet aloof with anxiety as a partner. Due to the nature of his Job, he finds comfort in the dead more than the living. With that said, change will come soon, sooner than one would think. 

 

Aesop Carl had a simple albeit strange ‘home’. He prefered if he were closer to his Funeral home so he decided... to live in his Funeral home. It wasn’t a suitable home at first, but at his request the one-story building became a two-story. He furnished the second floor as his living quarters with the classic monochrome color of grey. Oddly enough, his bedroom is the strangest. It was colored in pale colors, giving an illusion of pastels. Drapes of sheer cloth gave the room a soft look. He would never admit his liking to soft things. 

His work space is located at the first floor. It’s an eerie place with coffins being displayed at any corner. The reception area was simple, butno doubt waiting there would make your heart stammer. 

In the back you’d find where the magic happens. The place where he embalms the dead to look like the living. The light is shining upon a single table, the same table where he embalms the client. Along the shelves were an abundance of ointments, odd nameless red vials, jars of s white cream-like substance, latex and a collection of make up with sewing materials. 

Unfortunately for him, today is one of those days where he had no scheduled clients. A free day. No one had called him for reservations, nor did the police when they needed a body to be examined. He was absolutely and irritatingly free. He wanted to get the job done, but there was no job to be done. So there he sat in his hole unmoving. He slumped in his seat muttering “Nothing to do, No book to read, no nothing.” At this point he was ready to give up on doing anything, but that wouldnt be productive. “Maybe there’s one thing..” he stood up and looked under his bed, from under he pulled an old leather suitcase. 

The suitcase contained a box with old worn photographs, with the subject of 3 people. The two looked a couple. The woman had light brown locks which probably used to be brown. Her eyes a stern, cold yet oddly warm shade of grey. She was a stunning woman. 

The man had beauty soft looking grey locks with soft once pale blue eyes. He looked like a timid yet persevering man. In between them is a young boy with grey silver like hair, bearing a sleepy look in his owlish grey eyes. They were the start of a homely family. 

“But that’s in the past.” A whisper so small it was hardly heard at all. He took the faded photograph and continued to search. 

The other contents of the case was a letter from one very, v e r y, distant relative. A small box contaning two rings and a dozen of Journals. 

He took one journal and pen muttering “it’s good to indulge in old hobbies.” Carefully he placed his Journal in a small messenger bag and headed out. As he closed the door, he pulled up his face mask and walked in a leisurely paced. Making sure to avoid crowds, he kept his presence low and looked for an isolated area in the park. As he was looking, he couldn’t help but noticed a small grey bird perched in one of the tree branches. 

The bird was rather small, roughly around the size of his palm, plumpy and fluffed with grey feathers. “Oh hello there.” He called out to the bird, a small gentle smile overtook his face. Suddenly the bird chirped before frantically flapping it’s wings, leaving the area. “W-wait!” He called out, chasing the little bird, unknowingly leaving the path. 

He saw the bird duck down under a large mass of roots. He stopped and stared at the sight in front of him. A strange place, outside of the view of the public eye, with a floral archway of foliage. What did he do? 

He walked in, admiring the arch, but the sight beyond it was far more beautiful. The archway lead to a colorful meadow away from the people. Hidden from the public eye with Nature as it’s shield, and a beautiful, truly beautifully alluring Crystal blue lake. The rays of the sun that reflected through it made it glow, but something was strange about it. He couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. 

Even so, he settled down and took in the scenery, he took out his journal and began to let his hand move. His pen, as if by nature, drafted through the paper with preciseness his surroundings. However he faltered when out of the corner of his eyes he saw yellow roses. There was a time in his life where two beautiful people who filled him with love applauded his talents, but that time has long passed and only his uncle is left. Although, even that man has been long dead to him

He felt bitter, bitterness mixed with something he could not describe. However as he looked down, he found that he had drawn out the two figures from the photograph before. Slowy the bitterness faded and then an unexpected warmth came to light. “How strange.” He said, pulling down his mask to breathe in the fresh air. This moment however was interupted. A sound near the entrance of the forest had been heard. A snalling of a measly twig. He looked over and found a young girl.

The girl had her hair in Low twin tails. She wore a simple navy blue uniform with a grey messenger bag, a kin to his own with the exception of it being full of letters. 

As the girl walked forward, she greeted Cheerfully “Good Morning Mr. Carl!” Aesop nodded, greeting her with “likewise little miss post woman.” She balked comically, regorting with “I’m not little! We’re almost the same age!!” He rolled his eyes and merely hummed. “Okay so maybe I am a fee years younger.” She pouted, handing out a single letter. “A letter for you Mr. Carl.” He received the letter, feeling the wax stamp. 

“Thank you,”  
“No problem sir!”

The post woman answered and promptly left with a skip in her step. 

He felt the wax stamp of the letter again, thinking “uncle?” It wasn’t. He turned the letter over revealing— “Vera? Ms. Vera Nair?” This was new, he’d never gotten a letter from her before. 

A thought crossed his mind. 

“Wait, how did the Post woman find me?”

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, cliff hanger. This girl could have been a survivor but 🤗. Yeah, they got turned into a guy but the girl ver was much more cuter so 💁♀️ 
> 
>  
> 
> Nakakacringe omygha


End file.
